I doubt very highly that you are a regular reader of this site. We don’t really target our material to the semi-homeless “imma’ keel yous” drug addict crowd (though it is never too late to start expanding our horizons, I suppose). However, in the off chance that you are reading, thank you so much for not stabbing me.

Really, that was super nice of you. You had many opportunities to do it, but you didn’t, and that showed tremendous restraint. Maybe you were just not into it. Maybe you didn’t think you saw the right opening to do it. Hell, maybe you assumed I would have fought back. Whatever your reasoning, thanks all the same.

If you are curious, I most likely would not have. Anyone who knows me could have probably told you that. I have not been stabbed much in my life, but I can imagine that the experience would be met with great discomfort and the desire for as few stabs to be inflicted on me as possible. Fighting back would have exponentially increased the chances of that, so there you go.

I’d also like to thank you for showing me what kind of person I am in dealing with this kind of altercation. Most people will never truly know how they would react to this kind of situation, although I’m sure a grand majority assume they fall into one of two camps. Either the “knock the fucker out” camp, or the “crawl into a ball and cry” camp. If you do not recall our encounter, (call me presumptuous, but something tells me your memory is not incredibly keen), I’ll transcribe it for you.

Turns out, I am the wild card third camp, that being the way of the Shell Shocked Jedi Master.

I am now curious to see if my powers will work in normal every day situations, or if I can only pull them out in a crisis. It was a very “these are not the droids you are looking for” kind of moment, but apparently I can only channel my suppressed powers of psychic persuasion while I’m also fighting back the urge to unload a stream of terrified urine down my leg.

So, in closing, thank you for the not-stabbing, the revelation of my magical transcendence, and for the reassurance that my decision to continue showering regularly was a very wise move on my part.

– J.D. Renaud

PS – When you came up to me, I had yet to pay my rent, and had over $300 in my wallet. You picked the perfect guy, at the perfect time, and you didn’t fucking do it. Enjoy your DT’s, sucker.

I’m sure its been a long time since you guys have received any letters, and I know I’m a little late to the game here, but I have a pressing issue regarding your program that I need some clarification on.

I decided to go out for Halloween this year as Snidely Whiplash, mainly due to the fact that I always like finding the excuse to wear a top hat and a curly black moustache in public. After the festivities were over, I was in the mood to travel back in time a bit and re-watch some old Dudley-Do Right cartoons. After watching a handful of them, I noticed a very alarming trend. There is a running gag in many of the cartoons I watched that center around Dudley’s love interest, Nell Fenwick. Many times in the show, she appears disinterested in Dudley’s advances, and the reason given is because she is more romantically interested in his horse (aptly named Horse).

I’m going to say that again, because I think it is worth repeating… Nell Fenwick, a human female in a cartoon show set in the late 19th century, made in the 1960s, is in the middle of a love triangle involving a FUCKING HORSE. You used BESTIALITY as a MAIN PLOT POINT in your CHILDREN’S CARTOON SHOW.

I’m not sure if this makes you progressives or perverts, but god damn if that didn’t slip under my radar when I watched these as a child.

My issue here is not with Nell. Zoophilia, like most dangerous deviant sexual behaviours, usually stems from a traumatic upbringing or a maligned mental condition from youth. In her time and place, a condition like that was unlikely to be treated clinically as it properly should have been. Also, even though he seems totally cool with the whole situation, I’m not directing my anger towards Horse, either. He’s a horse, I doubt he has any idea whats actually going on. I’m sure Nell truly loves Horse (in her own demented little way), but I highly doubt that her love is, or could ever be fully reciprocated. I’m sure most zoophiles out there would disagree with me, but in my opinion, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t expect it to cuddle you after you fuck it.

What bothers me most is the fact that nobody else in the show seemed to give a fuck, suggesting that you people don’t give a fuck about these kinds of shenanigans, either. Whenever it is brought up, it is never met with a reaction from any of the other characters in the appropriate “What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?” kind of way. Dudley often just shrugs it off, as if it was perfectly normal behaviour, essentially saying “Oh that Nell, always trying to fuck my horse”. I understand that he is supposed to be a bit of an idiot for comedic purposes, but I’m pretty sure that even certifiably retarded people know that romantic involvement with quadrupeds is generally frowned upon in most cultures. I have to imagine that the turn of the century RCMP would have some kind of provision regarding this sort of thing.

I am aware that cartoons are usually way ahead of the curve on taboo cultural issues (Bugs Bunny’s cross dressing, Snagglepuss’s very evident homosexuality, Woody Woodpecker’s battle with meth addiction, ect.), but I’m sorry, sex with horses is where this fellow draws the line. It’s also where I’m fairly sure a vast majority of the rest of the world draws the line, too. Now, you might be saying to yourself, ‘who is this guy to to say that someone isn’t allowed to love whomever or whatever they want?’

You people should be ashamed of yourselves. I expect a full formal apology, or for you to write an episode where Nell and Horse are forced to marry. If they must do what they do, they should at least have the decency not to do it out of wedlock.

I really think you guys should sit this holiday out for like a decade or two.

Hold up, hear me out.

I am not prejudiced, I truly think gay people should have all the rights and privileges that straight people have. However, I think this is really a productive and efficient way for you guys to win a lot of the battles you’re currently fighting.

The first rule of war is to know your enemy, and your opposition to things like equal rights and civil unions stems from people with a highly irrational sense of tradition. These are people who don’t like letting new people enter their club because… well, because new people aren’t allowed in the club, so there. In many ways, it’s not that you want something that they already have, its that you want it without giving something up in return. It’s one of those “mommy, I broke my toy, could you break one of my little sisters toys to make it fair?” scenarios.

Straight people love halloween because it permits us the freedom to cross dress in public for one day a year and not be ridiculed. Quite frankly, we need this day a lot more than you do. That’s not to say I don’t think you all enjoy a good costume ball. Hell, who doesn’t? But you have to understand what this day means to people with bland, vanilla sexual habits. It’s the one day a year where a guy who masturbates to La Senza flyers can pretend he’s something better than what he is. It’s the day when women who have never experienced any sexual positions beyond missionary can cram their bodies into skin tight cat suits and still retain their dignity. In short, it’s the day when all the people who hate you pretend to be you.

If you take a bold stand and agree not to participate in halloween as a sign of solidarity, it will be seen in the eyes of the bigoted right as a decent compromise. You know, like how they let you have your own parade, but you’re not allowed to march in the St. Patrick’s Day parade? It’s not for any fundamental or religious reasons, they just don’t want you hogging all the parades.

In their eyes, you guys are greedy. For many of them, they think that since they are not having gay sex all year long that they have earned the right to be Batman for a day. The lives of straight people revolve around shame and penance. Halloween, a day devoted to horror, violence, paganism and sex, is their reward to themselves for being upright citizens. Once you get that, this all makes a lot more sense.

You have to understand that most straight people think that every day is halloween for you. You’re kind of like goths in their eyes, they don’t really see the need for you to dress up when you’re already dressed up the other 364 days of the year anyway. Yes, they are wrong to assume this, I know, but that’s not the point. Where you may think you have to fight fire with fire, in this situation, you actually need to fight stupid with humble.

If you sit out halloween until around 2025, in that time it will be likely you can negotiate your way into being allowed to marry, join the military, and adopt white children. Let them think they won this round while you scoop up all the important things right under their noses. Meanwhile, the homophobic opposition will still have a heightened sense of superiority, because they are allowed to go outside dressed as Captain Planet and you are not. Then, when you’ve got everything you want and the time is right, you can fight for your right to take part in the festivities again.

Well folks, I am happy to report that stand up comedy in Winnipeg is alive and well. I knew all of you were losing a lot of sleep over that, but rest assured, the young men and women of this city with severe issues that have chosen to air their grievances publicly are, as always, in top form.

Thanks to the lovely John B Duff, many of us have found a happy home at the Cavern Open Mic, which is quickly becoming my favourite venue in the city. A regular weekly gig is incredibly helpful for all of us, and its a great place to roll the dice and try out some new stuff. (re: an exponentially increased chance of failure and crying)

In that spirit, please enjoy the following clip from last night, where I discuss the zombie walk phenomina, and the glory and wonder that is the slow clap.